


Pride

by Dracoduceus



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Demisexual McCree, Developing Relationship, M/M, Miscommunication, Modern AU, Relationship Discussions, Roommates, drunken hookups, failed attempt at a surprise blowjob, friends to lovers?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 07:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19719301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracoduceus/pseuds/Dracoduceus
Summary: McCree reluctantly goes to a party thrown by his friend Genji and meets a handsome stranger. He's never been one for sex but...well, for this man? He might be able to.Suddenly, for once he's in the strange position of not wanting sex...but still wanting sexwith Hanzo.





	Pride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShittyHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShittyHero/gifts).



> This was done as a kind of challenge/exchange with [IchigoWhiskey](https://twitter.com/ichigowhiskey) and I very thoroughly thank/blame her for the inspiration for this.

The party, as many parties thrown by Genji Shimada did, got out of hand.

It was the alcohol that convinced McCree to let Beefy McBeefcake sidle closer. His big hands certainly helped—it seemed that even drunk as shit, Beefy McBeefcake was a gentleman and while his hands wandered, so far it was rather chaste.

Along his back.

Along his hips.

They wrapped around McCree’s waist as he pressed McCree against the wall but didn’t wander to cup the most obvious target.

Beefy McBeefcake nibbled at McCree’s earlobe and whispered, “Would you like to take this elsewhere?”

“Not for sex,” McCree blurted, feeling drunk on rum-flavored kisses from Beefy McBeefcake and from the beer he had been sipping.

To his surprise, Could-crush-McCree-with-his-biceps smiled and said, “That can be arranged.”

Which was how McCree found himself in bed, the world spinning either from alcohol or lack of oxygen while his new friend tried to suck his soul through his mouth.

McCree could suddenly appreciate the stories of sex demons stealing the souls of those stupid enough to sleep with them.

It wasn’t until he woke up the next morning, still clothed and somehow the little spoon, that he learned Beefy McBeefcake, probably-a-professional-bodybuilder, was named Hanzo.

And that he was Genji’s older brother.

One of Hanzo’s big hands rested on McCree’s hip, his big fingers brushing against skin as his shirt rode up, and he could feel Hanzo’s erection digging into his backside but Hanzo only tucked his face into the back of McCree’s neck and said, “it’s been a while since I had someone this nice in my bed.”

Then he pulled away and McCree had a peculiar kind of whiplash where he oscillated between wanting Hanzo to want him and not wanting to have to tell Hanzo that he had no interest in sex.

Rolling over, McCree let his eyes roam appreciatively over Hanzo’s big shoulders, his trim waist,  _ that ass _ . “It’s a strange feeling to be ogled without being jumped on,” Hanzo said and McCree met his eyes in the mirror. “I can’t say that it’s that objectionable, though. Would you like breakfast?”

So began the strangest friendship that McCree had ever had and that included his friendship with Genji. Perhaps it ran in the family.

Hanzo was funny, charming, and had a peculiar kind of confidence that was endearing rather than frustrating. Not to mention that he was  _ hot _ .

“I don’t get it,” Genji complained more than once. “My brother doesn’t  _ do _ friends.”

McCree would always say nothing in return because he didn’t know, either.

“How are we friends?” McCree asked one day as he watched Hanzo feed his pet snake.

Hanzo had shrugged and even as friends who sometimes made out (a lot) when they were drunk, McCree could never get tired of watching Hanzo’s muscles move beneath his tight shirts. “It doesn’t make sense,” he agreed with a wry smirk. “I  _ shouldn’t _ like you and yet…” he dragged his eyes from McCree’s stockinged feet, passing over his body in a long, appreciative look. Hanzo winked. “I can’t find much to complain about.”

Swallowing, McCree looked away but as ever, Hanzo never followed through on his advances. 

As ever, McCree found himself with a peculiar sense of whiplash: wanting to be wanted, but not wanting to turn Hanzo down. They had certainly fallen in bed together often enough. McCree had woken up more than once as little spoon with Hanzo’s erection digging into his ass but aside from that proximity, Hanzo had done nothing about it.

To be fair, Hanzo had tried once or twice but when McCree had wordlessly moved his hands away, Hanzo hadn’t said anything, hadn’t tried to coax McCree into sex again. After those times, if Hanzo’s hands wandered—and McCree was honestly inclined to believe that it was accidental rather than intentional—he shifted them away and murmured an apology against McCree’s lips.

“Speaking of,” Hanzo said and his voice broke McCree from his musings. He was looking at McCree out of the corners of his eyes. “You look down lately.”

McCree made a face. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Hanzo retorted as he watched the snake devour the pinkie in the enclosure. “But if you don’t want to talk about it, then you don’t have to. I just would like to know that my friend is alright.”

“I need to find a new place to live,” McCree admitted and Hanzo turned to look at him, arching a brow incredulously. “No, seriously. The landlord came by last weekend and said that he wanted to convert the duplex into a single-family dwelling. I got a month.”

Hanzo stared at him with an unreadable look for a long moment. “That’s it?” he asked.

“I tried to get more time but the landlord says that the crews wanted to get started,” McCree said glumly. “And it’s a pain to find—”

“No, that’s  _ it _ ?” Hanzo interrupted.

McCree scowled. “It ain’t that easy to find a new place,” he snapped.

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “I live alone in a three-bedroom house,” he said dryly. “Four if you count the basement suite. Move in with me.” He turned away as if that was that. “Your dinosaur can go in here or we can move her into a separate room.”

For a long moment McCree couldn’t find anything to say. “Most people date for years before moving in together.”

Hanzo turned so that McCree could see him rolling his eyes. “And some people find roommates on Craigslist,” he said dryly. “This is hardly much different. We are at least friends.” His face shifted slightly, wary. “Unless…”

“No!” McCree assured him quickly. “I just…wasn’t expecting it.”

_ Oh shit _ , McCree realized as Hanzo’s face brightened into a smile.  _ I  _ really _ like him. _

Moving in together made everything worse. Now McCree got to see Hanzo more undressed, his body wet from his shower and his towel slipping deliciously low on his hips. He got to watch Hanzo work out in the portion of the basement that had been converted into a miniature gym and could stare for hours at the way that Hanzo’s muscles moved beneath his skin.

But it wasn’t all perfect. He learned that Hanzo was sometimes obsessively clean but that he couldn’t cook much more than the basics so they traded those chores off to each other. McCree liked it warm but Hanzo liked it cold and both were cautious with the utility bills, which they split.

They learned that they each had their fair share of nightmares, which neither of them wanted to talk about so they stayed awake together and made cocoa and tea and sometimes pastries when the shadows of the night grew too long.

It was one such night that McCree climbed into Hanzo’s lap, the first time since they had moved in together by unspoken mutual agreement, and tucked his head against Hanzo’s neck. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Just…I need this.”

“That can’t be comfortable,” Hanzo said at last in a peculiar voice. “Come.”

So, he drew McCree upstairs and into bed. He arranged them so that they were on their sides, McCree’s face pressed to the hollow of Hanzo’s neck. Their arms were curled around each other and their legs were tangled together. A lover’s pose, but McCree couldn’t find it in him to protest because he could hear Hanzo’s steady breaths and the steady cadence of his heart.

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing McCree knew he was opening his eyes to the golden glow of morning streaming in through the curtains.

Unsurprisingly, as these things typically happened when he fell in bed with Hanzo, McCree found that Hanzo was hard, pressing insistently against McCree’s hip. Hanzo was still asleep, his mouth half open and his face relaxed.

Looking down, McCree found that Hanzo’s sleep pants had slid down, revealing a patch of skin and wiry pubic hair. The thick base of Hanzo’s half-hard cock was peeking out and for the first time in a long time, McCree wondered what it might feel like in his hand.

In his mouth. 

He wasn’t a stranger to handjobs, to sucking dick. Sex wasn’t a foreign concept to him but as he grew older he found that the novelty of it had worn off. Occasionally jerking himself off was one thing but...he didn’t want to do it to others. 

_ With _ others. 

But with Hanzo...well it was different and it wasn’t. As if feeling the weight of his gaze, Hanzo’s cock twitched. McCree wondered what he was dreaming about. 

He wondered how Hanzo would react to waking up with McCree’s mouth on him. He wondered how Hanzo would taste. 

Stuck in a strange kind of paradox, McCree wanted to know and didn’t. In the end he decided to try anyway, leaning down and breathing in Hanzo’s scent. All he could smell was the dryer sheets that Hanzo used while washing his clothes—lavender, because the man had a peculiar love for it. 

McCree took another deep breath and now could smell a hint of musk, of the soap he had used in his evening shower. He pressed his lips—dry in his nervousness—to the base of Hanzo’s cock. All he could think of was the slight twitch and soft grunt from Hanzo, the wiry feel of his pubic hair brushing against McCree’s lips. 

Above him, Hanzo made a low noise like a sigh, his hips rocking minutely. McCree licked his lips and looked up at Hanzo. His head had turned slightly as if in his sleep he was looking down at McCree. 

What would Hanzo do? McCree wondered absently as he cautiously brought a hand to tug the waistband of Hanzo’s pants lower. What would Hanzo say? 

McCree didn’t believe that it would be like what he saw in pornography, that Hanzo would bury his fingers in McCree’s hair—nevermind that he wasn’t a fan of hair-pulling—and drag McCree’s head down. 

He thought that maybe he might like it. Not  _ really _ , but he would like that it was Hanzo. 

Above him, Hanzo’s breath hitched. “Shit.” his entire body bucked and McCree shoved himself away before he was kneed in the throat. “Jesse!”

There was shock in his voice, but none of the kind of shock that McCree wanted. Though he knew better than to set his expectations to what he saw in porn...well, he couldn't help but wonder what  _ else _ it had lied to him about. 

There was also an uncomfortable kind of horror that made McCree’s insides turn to ice. 

So that explained that. McCree swallowed hard. Hanzo reached down with a hand and drew McCree up, something strangely brittle in his eyes. 

“What are you doing down there?”

McCree's mouth twisted. “What does it look like?” He snapped as he pulled his chin away from Hanzo's fingers.

Sitting up, Hanzo followed him, his expression closed off. “I was under the impression that you did not want sex.”

“I don't,” McCree snapped back. “But…” his words failed him and he stopped. How did you put this into words?

Problem was, no matter how he put it, he would make it sound pushy. Or just downright  _ terrible _ . Assuming that Hanzo even  _ wanted _ sex with him, saying “I don't want sex, maybe ever, but I  _ think _ I would feel less dirty if it was with you” would probably not go well. 

_ It might go better than trying to blow him while he's asleep _ , his traitorous mind whispered back. 

Then Hanzo smiles, still looking insultingly sleepy. “We never need to have sex,” he pointed out. “It’s enough for me that you’re here.” Then he drew McCree close, tangled their legs together—his half-hard cock pressing against McCree’s hip until he reached down and adjusted it—and fell asleep. 

For a long moment, McCree stewed on his frustration and tried to keep his breathing slow and even to not wake Hanzo. 

“I don’t want sex,” he said to Hanzo’s chest, his eyes squeezed shut. “But I want  _ you _ . Does that make sense?” 

Hanzo wasn’t awake to answer. 

* * *

McCree’s mood soured.

Worse was that he was aware of it, was aware of each small downward spiral and felt worse for it. What kind of person didn’t want sex, didn’t want to turn down someone for requesting it, but was mad that it wasn’t requested?

Him, apparently, and it made him feel worse, even worse than his poor attempt at a surprise blowjob.

The next few days were rough but bless his heart, Hanzo said nothing about how McCree burned dinner multiple times, how he left his mess everywhere when previously he had been neat. It made McCree angrier knowing that Hanzo was trying to give him his space.

He threw himself into converting a portion of the basement into a reptile room, researching UV and heat lamps, a separate zone for the basement with its own thermostat, humidifiers. A section of the basement was occupied by workout equipment and McCree organized those and used miserly pieces of electrical tape to mark out a theoretical dividing wall to keep the equipment from being damaged by moisture.

It became his sanctuary.

He didn’t climb in bed with Hanzo again, or seek him out in the early morning when a bout of insomnia hit; he just went to the basement.

Eventually Hanzo stopped him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, brows knit with worry.

“Nothing,” McCree said brusquely but didn’t pull away.

Hanzo’s dark eyes searched his. “Something is,” he said quietly, sounding defeated, a hand coming up to very gently touch McCree’s cheek.

As if he was afraid that McCree would reject him. The thought curdled something in McCree’s stomach. 

“I won’t force you to tell me, but I know there’s something wrong.” They stood there like that for a long time as if neither of them could find it in them to break their awkward silence.

“Is this unwelcome?” Hanzo asked at last, his voice brittle.

McCree caught his hand when he began to pull it back. “No,” he said quickly, too quickly. He swallowed and decided to jump in with both feet. “Not at all. More than welcome.”

Very carefully Hanzo stepped closer, thumbing the elastic of McCree’s sweatpants before putting his hand safely—and awkwardly—on McCree’s hip. “Then what’s wrong?” Hanzo asked softly and McCree realized with a sinking feeling that he had been afraid that McCree would reject him.

That McCree had regretted waking up in bed with him.

He had given McCree his space as much for him to get himself together as to distance himself for inevitable rejection.

“This thing…” McCree said and pressed his palm against the hand on his cheek. “Whatever it is with us…what is it?”

“I’d like us to…” Hanzo paused, clearly searching for the right word. “Be together. In a relationship.”

McCree swallowed. “I’d like that too,” he whispered and Hanzo sighed in relief. “But also…” then it was his turn to search for the words to describe his thoughts, what had eaten at him for so long. “You don’t want sex with me,” he blurted out and kicked himself for how juvenile it sounded.

Surprised, Hanzo recoiled. “I thought that you did not want sex?” he asked, clearly confused. “Was I wrong?”

“No,” McCree huffed, frustrated. “I don’t but…” he growled.

Hanzo gently lifted his other hand to cup McCree’s cheek. “Then we don’t have to have sex.”

“Don’t you want me?” McCree blurted. “Did I do something wrong? Because…” much to his shame, he felt tears welling up. “Well…I want you. Almost. As much as I’ve ever wanted sex with anyone. It’s just…” he huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll do it. I don’t want it but I think I’m going to like doing it with you…or like it well enough. It’ll be bearable with you.”

For a long moment Hanzo said nothing, his face unreadable, and McCree struggled to keep from blurting out something else, to keep from talking. It was entirely out of character and that made him feel worse for succumbing to this kind of doubt and weakness. 

He had never doubted himself before, had never had this issue but then…

...then he hadn’t had a chance of losing Hanzo. 

Now he wondered, as he had never wondered before, if there was something wrong with him. 

Then Hanzo smiled. “Is that it?” he asked as if this were all so simple. 

Perhaps to him it was. 

Before McCree could tell him off, Hanzo continued, “I think that we need to have a more in-depth talk—we’re clearly not on the same page here.” His expression turned more serious. “Look me in the eyes right now and tell me the truth: do you want to have sex with me? Do you  _ want _ to—none of this ‘it will be bearable’ bullshit.” 

McCree swallowed and found himself unable to look away. “No,” he managed to croak out. 

Then Hanzo’s smile returned and he stood on his toes to press his nose to McCree’s. “Then we will not have sex. Not until we both decide that we want to.” 

He found one of McCree’s hands and pressed his cheek into the palm. McCree found himself thinking that they fit together as if made for each other. He cautiously wrapped his other arm around Hanzo’s waist and pulled him closer. 

“Don’t ever believe that I don’t want you,” Hanzo breathed. “Or that I don’t find you desirable. This isn’t about me, alone: this is about  _ us _ .” 

“Us,” McCree croaked. “I like the sound of that.” 

Hanzo’s smile widened. “Do you?” he asked. “I had hoped you would.” 

They stood there, grinning stupidly at each other until Hanzo’s legs shook and McCree realized that he had been standing on his toes the entire time. By wordless agreement they curled up together in Hanzo’s bed and went to sleep. 

It wasn’t a new experience for McCree to wake up in Hanzo’s bed but this time the lingering unease, the expectation that he’d have to turn Hanzo down was lessened. (He had hoped that it would have gone away, but that’s not how the world worked and he was almost annoyed at himself that he had hoped.) 

Hanzo stretched and yawned and McCree could feel him half hard against his hip. “Can I kiss you?” Hanzo breathed and McCree nodded so quickly that he nearly headbutted Hanzo. 

This close McCree could see it: not only the desire that burned in Hanzo’s eyes, but also the naked affection. They were tangled together like lovers but their kiss was soft and gentle. 

They weren’t in any rush. 

**Author's Note:**

> A few things about the story that I didn't really explain or expand on in the story. This is a Modern AU where Hanzo and Jesse both have reptiles. Hanzo has a few snakes and a small lizard (leopard gecko maybe? Haven't decided and it wasn't important for me to, anyway) and McCree has an iguana. 
> 
> That being said, other aspects of this story are actually based on true events or conversations I've had with people. This includes the "good friends that make out a lot" dynamic as well as the attempted surprise blowjob. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it. It was tough but it was...really nice to write. I think I actually had this doc open for almost an entire month before I was able to finish it. There were so many things that I wanted to include but didn't for fear of the story never ending. The main storyline was them getting together, not the specifics of their relationship as they eventually manage to sit down and talk about it. 
> 
> In any case, please let me know what you thought about it. I'd love to hear your thoughts. You can also find me on twitter at [Dracoduceus](https://twitter.com/dracoduceus). 
> 
> ~DC


End file.
